


Greatness

by arianapeterson19



Series: Avengers Shorts [10]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Tony, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 10:45:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5124599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arianapeterson19/pseuds/arianapeterson19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people were born great, some became great, and some had greatness thrust upon them. Tony was fairly certain he crashed headlong into greatness and when greatness tried to reject him he bought it off but no one could prove that. </p><p>Or</p><p>People officially were the worst but caves weren't, so people really needed to stop sticking Tony Stark in caves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Caves

From the moment he stepped foot on this earth, Tony Stark was nothing short of great. He was one of the few who were born great, a greatness that went beyond his inherited wealth and personal genius to something in his inner being that grew against all odds. Tony Stark was a passionate person and threw his entire being into everything he did, from inventing to partying, he did it all with his very best effort, and that innate ability to do every single thing as if it were the most important thing in the world, was what made him great. It wasn't something that could be learned, it was something a person either could do or could not do, but it was not learned.

Steve Rogers achieved greatness. He rose from the bottom to the top in a matter of minutes thanks to a serum induced change, a change he volunteered for. He wanted to achieve greatness so he did, stopping at nothing to become better than what he was.

Natasha and Clint had greatness thrust upon them. Her choice was to continue down the path she had been set on and do more damage to the world. Or she could take the opportunity Clint handed her and turn against her homeland and try to do better. When she attempted to do better, she was thrown into a world next to Clint that expected greatness from them both. So they did great.

When the Avengers minus Bruce and Thor found themselves captured and held in a cave, none of them could imagine that their greatness would be put to good use or what type of use that would end up being.

"You know, I'm not particularly fond of caves," said Tony lightly, pacing the length of their cell, picking up abandoned objects at random before discarding them in ever growing piles of useless things. "Personally, I think the whole cave thing is rather over done. Whatever happened to good old fashioned dungeons? Or even better, cages hung in trees. I like trees. Hawkeye would feel more at home too. Next time, I request being held in the forest. Do you here that, you crazies?"

"I don't think they're taking requests, Stark," said Natasha drily from where she was seated against the wall, facing the door.

"They can't hear you anyway," said Steve as he tried his strength against the door and lost-again.

"That's beside the point," said Tony.

The next pass he made around the cell, he tripped over a protruding stone and stumbled into Steve, who automatically reached out and caught him.

"Care, Tony," said Steve.

"The camera's have microphones," hissed Tony, keeping his voice low and lips still as the rest of him flailed against Steve in a fake attempt to get steady. "Don't say anything stupid."

Steve and Tony finally managed to separate while Clint snickered. Tony once again continued making piles around the room, seemingly at random but the others had finally caught on to his antics. At first, they had merely chalked it up to Tony's compulsive need to constantly be moving and fiddling with things. The more they watched, however, the more they caught on to the way his eyes took in each object at a glance and his movements, erratic and unpredictable, were actually purposeful. Even more interesting was the fact that four of Tony's piles of things were placed against walls or coners, places they would normally sit, he filled with things. At first, Clint could not figure out how Tony seemed to pick the four exact places the archer would normally claim as his own. It was almost as if the billionaire was trying to piss him off.

Then it hit Clint, literally, as Tony dropped an object in his lap, almost as if he didn't know the archer was there. It was a doorknob and lock and utterly useless. A few minutes later, a rod, barrel of a gun, and an old hammer joined the doorknob and lock. Clint looked up, then back down, then at the room in general, and realized that the five piles, including growing one in his lap, were all placed exactly in a cameras blind spot. The other piles were still in the middle of the room, scattered about, but those five were hidden from the camera's view.

Tony was up to something and if he got caught, whoever had captured them would likely kill him.

Natasha shook her head at Clint when it looked like the archer was about to make a comment to Tony. She didn't know exactly what the billionaire was up to, but she was not about to put an end to it. As far as being held captive in a cave went, Tony had the best track record for getting out in one piece.

It went on for hours until at last, someone made an appearance.

"Stark, you're coming with us," said a tall man flanked by two men who would have been stereotypical football players in high school.

"Will there be coffee involved?" asked Tony, crossing his arms in the middle of the room.

"What do you want from us?" demanded Steve, his Captain America voice ringing out.

"Come along Stark," said the man again.

"I'm good, thanks though," said Tony, turning away as if bored and approaching a pile closer to the door.

One of the large men snagged Tony by the arm and dragged him out, slamming the door shut and locking it with a resounding click.

With a sigh, Steve settled down next to Natasha on the floor. She instantly curled close to him and began speaking in such hushed tones that only his serum inproved hearing could catch what she said.

"Tony knew they were coming for him," said Natasha.

Clint moved over and settled down on the ground, his head in Natasha's lap, closing his eyes and going to sleep to all appearances.

"He's a pain in the ass, but this isn't his first rodeo," breathed Steve. "He's been through this before. He's the best civilian to have in this sort of situation."

"We really should look in to training him properly for shit like this," sighed Clint, turning in his 'sleep' so his head was facing Natasha's stomach, her hand carding through his hair. "Make me a lot less nervous."

"But he does have a plan," continued Natasha. "See the piles, Steve? Several are useless, ones he made to throw our captors off, but the five closer to the wall are all for something. They're out of camera sight. When they came in and grabbed him, he let them. He took their eyes off us and let them take him. He wants us to make use of this time.

"But how?" asked Clint.

"I know," whispered Steve, blinking slowly. "He told me when he fell."


	2. Buying Time

At least one hour, that was how much time he needed to buy his partners. They needed at least an hour to sort out the cameras and get everything set. As he counted the steps, making mental notes of every detail of the cave as he was dragged through it, he also planned out the nest few hours of his life. Being in a cave reminded him painfully of his last visit to a cave. He knew he would have nightmares the moment he succumbed to sleep, knew that mentally he was screwed the moment he let his guard down. He could feel the past clawing at his brain, attempting to overtake the present and trap him in the well that was his memory. But out of all that, Tony extracted one snippet of conversation and locked the rest in a broom cupboard in his mind, knowing it wouldn't last forever but hoping it would hold just long enough.

They were yelling in a language Tony had learned after his first stay in a cave, screaming at him about weapons he no longer made and designs he had since burned, but they didn't know he understood them. Tony continued to play dumb, and eventually they decided that he couldn't understand them and one shouted for a translator. Tony was thrown into a room that was pitch black, his hands tied roughly behind his back, and the beating- which he had expected since he opened his eyes in a cave- began.

They weren't gentle, per say, but more careful. They kept clear of his hands and arms, for the most part, focusing on his legs, straying occasionally to his ribs, but also avoiding his head. That alone clued Tony in on what exactly they were expecting out of him. They needed him to build something. But at he felt several bones in his foot crack, he realized that they didn't think he really needed his legs to do it. He wanted to scoff at them, tell them that the power to create didn't just come from his considerable upper body strength but also from having a solid base to control his movements.

However, before he could point that fact out, a naked bulb turned on, momentarily blinding Tony, and he was hauled back to his feet from where he had fallen. The tub of water was almost enough to make him throw up, but his pride and desperate hate of vomit stopped him just shy of that threshold.

One of the men, Tony wasn't sure which, was talking to him in English, asking him to build them weapons or he would kill him slowly. Tony was only vaguely paying attention, focusing more on his heart rate and working out how long he had been gone, hoping he could hold out just a little bit longer for his team.

His team.

That was why he was doing this. If it had just been him, he could have forced his way out by now. He was quick and could have built himself a way out in half the time it took them to fetch him if he had been alone. But he wasn't alone. He had a team waiting on him, depending on him to get them out and he needed to buy them more time if he was going to do that.

"I refuse," said Tony in English, his words echoing back to him from the past.

*in the cell*

Natasha and Clint were both working silently under a camera, getting a general idea of the layout it's guts and mentally matching it up with all of the other versions they had come into contact with. They had to wait to wire them until Tony came back, but everything needed to be perfect for when that happened. They both knew that no matter what Tony had told Steve, they were running on borrowed time, time Tony was personally paying for. Steve moved around the middle of the area, messing with the piles, keeping up a running commentary to distract the microphones from any noise the others may make. Periodically Clint or Natasha or both would walk into the picture, argue with Steve for show, and then storm off out of sight.

One hour, forty-eight minutes and twenty-seven seconds, that's how long Tony was gone. Natasha knew because as she worked, she counted seconds. Tony had promised Steve at least an hour. They were finished in one hour, two minutes, and twelve seconds. The rest of the time, Natasha, Clint, and Steve spent taking apart random odds and ends, knowing that Tony would need the parts for whatever it was he had up his sleeve.

The door opened and Tony was thrown into the cell, hitting the ground hard and not moving. Then the door was shut and locked and the remaining Avengers were at Tony's side.

"Are you alright?" asked Steve. "How did you get so wet?"

"They had a swimming pool," spat Tony, panting heavily while Natasha's soft hands efficiently searched his body for injuries. "We all know how much I love water, so I jumped in. For good measure I asked them to hold me under. I thought I needed the extra challenge."

"Those bastards water boarded you?" growled Clint, helping Tony into a sitting position. "I'm going to kill them."

"Easy, princess," said Tony, shivering in the cool cell air. "Give me two minutes."

"Two minutes for what?" asked Natasha, pulling Tony in for a hug to hide their conversation as well as for comfort.

"Two minutes. Then we each go to a blind spot. Then we walk around the room for fifteen minutes, talk, interact, nothing of note. Then we walk to a blind spot and fix the camera. That'll buy us at least three hours. Possibly more depending on how bored they get."

"You sure you're okay?" asked Clint when Tony pushed away from the assassin.

"Right as rain," said Tony, flashing an easy grin that did nothing to hide the fear he was barely keeping at bay.

With that, they stood, Tony swaying unsteadily for a moment before gritting his teeth and making his way to a blind spot, the others following his lead. For the next fifteen minutes, they did exactly as Tony asked, meandering, talking, doing nothing noteworthy, and when time was up, they each went under a camera and set it on loop until all of the cameras were set and they could work in peace without outside eyes and ears listening in.

"We have to work quickly," ordered Tony, settling next to the nearest pile.

"What are you building?" asked Clint, crouching next to the billionaire.

"Communicator," said Tony, not looking up from his mass of wires and bits of metal. "You, I need to go to the pile near the door and sort it out. Some of the things are useless, but I need piles in size of wires and flat sheets of metal. Captain, you get the pile to the south of Bird Brain. Only the tubes and screws. If they're stripped, toss them in a separate pile. When you're done with that, let me know. Tasha, you have small hands. When I finish with this, I need you to start trying to establish a connection but until then, you move next to the pile in the corner. No, the other corner, yes, that one. Pick the object of your liking and start chiseling away at that corner. Those idiots placed us next to their rear exit. Or, it was their rear exit before it caved in at some point."

"How does that help us?" asked Steve.

"I'm willing to bet our side isn't blocked. If that's true, where Natasha is working will be our best escape option. They won't have placed a guard there."

"Then why the need for weapons?"

"I said I was willing to bet that they didn't place a guard there, I didn't say I was willing to bet we'd have a jaunt through the daisy field to get home."

Clint smirked at that. Tony worked with a continuous stream of commentary, even though no one asked exactly what he was doing. Steve chalked it up to Tony being used to talking to JARVIS when he worked. Clint thought Tony just liked the sound of his own voice. Natasha decided that the genius actually wanted them to be aware of his plans in case anything happened. In reality, Tony talked so the others wouldn't have the chance to ask him stupid questions like how he was feeling. Tony hated feelings.

The camera trick bought them three hours, six minutes, and eleven seconds By that point, Tony had improvised nine different guns, one sling shot for Clint, a shield for Captain, and a rudimentary tazer gun for Natasha. It wasn't perfect, but it would do. He had also made two communicators and a bomb, the explosive he placed at the door.

"You know that'll buy us seconds at best, right?" said Clint as he practiced with his new sling shot.

"It's not meant to buy us seconds," said Tony, connecting the last wire and stepping back with a small smile. "It's meant to collapse most of this room. It'll give us an hour, if it works."

"If it works?" said Natasha, raising an eyebrow.

"I haven't made weapons in a cave for a few years," shrugged Tony. "There's a six percent chance that it won't work the way I want. It may just buy us seconds. Or, it may work exactly as I plan and send them in a search through the rubble of what's left of this room, giving us a head start to get the hell out of here."

"I like that plan a lot better," said Steve. "So, are we ready to leave?"

"You have that exit ready, Nat?" asked Tony, checking his own hand repulser one last time.

"Just about," said Natasha, giving the wall one last kick, causing some more rock and dirt to fall away, leaving behind a hole large enough for even Steve to fit through.

"Okay, Clint, take point," said Tony, standing up, ignoring the aches all along his body, telling himself it as just for a little bit longer. "Natasha, you go after him. Make sure the coast is clear. Steve, you after Natasha and I'll bring up the rear."

"No offense, Tony, but I would feel more comfortable bringing up the rear," said Steve. "You're injured."

"Trust me," said Tony seriously, meeting Steve's eyes with steely ones of his own. "It's just for getting out of the cave. If for some reason that bomb doesn't work the way I intend, I have the best shot at killing anyone who charges through the door. That'll give us seconds, but seconds we need to all get out of here. I'm smaller than you, a smaller target, and I can get through that hole a lot faster than you. After that, feel free to trade spots. But until then, this makes more sense."

"When did Tony Stark start using logic?" said Clint, breaking the tension somewhat with his grin.

"When did Hawkeye start asking stupid questions? Oh wait, you've always done that!"

Footsteps started sounding down the hall of the cave, followed by voices speaking in other languages.

"That's our signal," said Tony, walking over to their improvised exit.

"Stark," said Steve, hand on Tony's shoulder as first Clint and then Natasha disappeared through the hole in the wall. "You sure about this?"

"Yeah," said Tony with the same fake grin he gave the press. "It'll be fun. What's the worst that could happen?"

Seconds later, as Tony began his own crawl to freedom, one of their captures tried their luck at the door and the room exploded in a haze of dust, stone, and heat, and Tony deeply regretted his taunt to the fates.


	3. Talking is Coping

His foot was caught in the falling rubble but Tony quickly yanked it out and continued to crawl after Steve's huge form. The walls felt like they were closing in, and maybe they were; Tony hadn't had time to test the bomb, it may have been too powerful or the shockwave could have knocked the rest of the tunnel loose. There were so many unknowns and all Tony could think of was how he would be the last person to die in his lifetime and how fitting that it would be at the hands of his own weapon.

"I've got you," said Steve, reaching back when Tony stumbled yet again, pulling him forward into the clear exit, crisp night air mixing with dust.

"That went better than expected," panted Tony, leaning against Steve as Natasha came forward to check them both over for injuries and Clint kept watch at the entrance of the cave.

"What were you expecting to happen?" asked Steve.

"You need stitches," said Natasha, ripping some cloth to wrap around Tony's bleeding limb. "You're an idiot, Stark."

"But you love me anyway," said Tony with a grin that looked closer to a grimace of.

"Still an idiot."

"I know. I put it on my resume under 'Special Talents' because I excel at being an idiot it turns out. At least, it would be on my resume if I had one of those. Maybe Pepper put it on there for me. Oh, I could have JARVIS do it! I'm sure he knows where my resume is and how to make one. I'll have to have him add 'Professional Coffee Drinker' and 'Resident Insomniac' while he's at it."

"Did he get a head injury?" whispered Steve, blue eyes alarmed as he directed the look at Natasha.

"No," said Natasha in a clipped tone, tying off the last of the cloth securely. "We all have ways of dealing with pain. Most people cry or scream, Stark talks."

"We need to get moving," called Clint from the entrance. "We're clear."

"Can you walk?" asked Natasha, studying Tony carefully for any sign of a lie.

"Sure," said Tony, not looking forward to it in the least.

Natasha nodded and turned to follow Clint, Steve right behind Tony, as the crew set out from the cave. Tony concentrated on moving forward and keeping his limp to a minimum. Everything ached, panic was sitting on the edge of his mind ready to spring the instant he slowed down, and he knew that his next sleep would not be peaceful. Sleep was a rare thing in his life but he did try to get it. He had even set up a system to determine what a sleep was as opposed to a nap. A sleep was anything four hours or longer, a nap was anything shorter than four hours. His team-imposed goal was to get a sleep every other day at least. They rewarded him if he managed to do it twice in row without being told with things like getting to pick the movie or bringing him his favorite take out for lunch. The system had been working but Tony just knew he was about to screw it up with nightmares and avoiding them.

"Kidnappings suck," panted Tony as they trotted at a steady gait through the freezing desert, feet slapping soundly on the packed ground.

"I'll keep that in mind for the next time it's my turn to pick the outing," said Clint, who had traded places with Natasha for a time to keep an eye on Tony.

"You do that," Tony shot back.

"Have we made contact with anyone yet?" asked Steve, looking ridiculously fine for having been kidnapped and running through the desert, not even winded even if he was dirty.

"Nat made contact about ten minutes ago," reported Clint. The archer reached out and grabbed Tony's arm to prevent the man from tripping over a shadowed rock. "They're about twelve minutes out."

"We can reach that outcropping of rocks by then," said Steve, pointing at a low, rough formation on the horizon. "It'll give us enough cover to board the jet."

"That's like a mile away," groaned Tony, sitting down on the ground, panting and shaking. "Just leave me here. You may be a super soldier, Rogers, but I'm not and quite frankly I can't cover that distance in this amount of time."

"Come on, Tony," said Clint. "It's not so bad. Just think about that nice big bed of yours waiting for you at home."

"You tell my bed that Daddy loves it and is sorry he's not coming home," said Tony dramatically.

"Fine," said Steve.

With that, he reached down and pulled Tony over his shoulder, leaving the billionaire to dangle and bitch to his back. With that, they all set off at a much faster pace than before.

"This is humiliating," whined Tony. "You set me down, Rogers. So help me I will bite this fine ass of yours it you don't, don't you try me."

"Sure thing," said Steve, not really paying attention, focusing instead on matching Clint and Natasha's pace because he could go faster but they could not.

Tony, knowing when he was being ignored, growled and bit Steve's butt to prove his point.

"What the fuck!" snapped Steve, jumping and glaring at the legs near his face. "You actually bit me!"

"He did?" laughed Clint. "Oh my gosh that's awesome! This is the best! I can't believe you actually bit Captain America's ass!"

Tony grinned even as the jostling sent waves of pain through his body.

"You're the devil," grumbled Steve as they covered the last few yards to the rock outcropping in record time. "You are the actual devil, Tony."

"Well I was conceived in a graveyard," said Tony, hissing slightly as Steve set him safely behind a larger rock.

The quinjet arrived not long after, piloted by Maria Hill, Bruce waiting in the back with medical supplies. The doctor instantly started working on Tony, snapping quick x-rays before they took off, then cleaning the wounds and stitching them up before wrapping the fractured foot carefully. The entire time Tony kept up a steady stream of commentary, relaying every event from the time they had been captured leading up to the moment they saw the quinjet, highlighting his comrades accomplishments and setting of the cameras on loop and downplaying anything that involved him and getting tortured.

When they arrived back at the Tower, everyone went to take showers. By the time Clint, Natasha, Steve, and Bruce were down showering, it was late. They all met in the common area, seemingly with the same goal- the kitchen. To get to the kitchen, however, they had to pass the living room with its giant pit of comfort where they normally settled to watch movies and hang out. In the pit, they saw Tony, curled in a tight ball and clearly having a nightmare.

"JARVIS," said Clint calmly. "Put on F.R.I.E.N.D.S. please."

Obligingly, JARVIS started the first episode of the first season while Steve went and got snacks from the kitchen and Clint and Natasha curled up on either side of the resident billionaire, leaving Bruce to grab some more blankets. With soft words and gentle hands, the assassins brought Tony out of his nightmare and into a lighter but less disturbed doze.

"This is where we live now," joked Bruce when he threw a blanket at Clint before laying back a few feet away.

It may have been said as a joke but they all knew it would be true for as long as they were needed. It was their universal sign that they needed company, to purposefully seek out the pit and sleep there, especially for Tony who was still too shy to ask for help when he needed it. Besides, they had more seasons of shows to catch Steve up on, so who were they to turn down a late night binge?


End file.
